


These tornadoes

by ghostie_withthemostie



Series: Crush(ed) [5]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face Slapping, Public Sex, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8366863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostie_withthemostie/pseuds/ghostie_withthemostie
Summary: Beetlejuice doesn't like being used.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a pretty long time since I've written for this collection, wow. Had to find my groove again.  
> AS always, while this is part of a collection, it is not necessary to read in order and it can function just fine as a standalone. However, if you enjoyed it, check out the rest.  
> I know this fandom is pretty dead/non-existent, but I enjoy writing these two together, so...I will continue. That being said, if you read this and liked it, please please let me know! Hearing something, ANYTHING, would be extremely validating and might just push me to keep writing within a more regular time frame. Thank you so much!
> 
> Please read Richard Siken's poetry, he is everything to me.

She’s on him as soon as he arrives in the living realm. Barely fully materialized, wisps of smoke still lingering from his abrupt arrival and he’s being slammed backwards against a wall, Lydia’s mouth mashing against his own desperately. He rolls with it, though. _Bitch is crazy, **that’s** already been established._

                Her kiss is all sharp teeth and wild tongue, her deft little hands scratching and tugging at his coat and pants frantically. When he grabs her hand to stop them, she whines and presses close, rubbing her body up and down against his. Breaking the kiss, he struggles to pry her loose and push her back and away from him. She huffs in frustration, yanking against his grip ineffectually.

“Eeeaaasy now, tiger. Or I guess you’re more like a cat in heat, aren’t ya?” He barked a laugh as she whined again. “What’s got you all riled up, huh?”

                Still struggling and tossing her head wildly, Lydia answered, “Nothing, nothing…I just,” here she took a deep, shuddering breath, “need you to fuck me. _Hard._ Please!”

                Beetlejuice laughed, “Sure, sure, we’ll get to it…” He kept her hands locked in an unbreakable grip, however, which made her screech in frustration and double her efforts to break free.

                While he let that happen for a bit, he observed their surroundings: Back of a bar, looked like-- _smelled_ like, he should say. A ripe, overflowing dumpster to the right blocked them from street view. The whole place reeked like old mop water and sour beer. _Romantic._ Lydia herself looked a mess; hair sloppy, eye makeup smudged in dark streaks across her pale cheeks. Her eyes were wild, though, pupils blown out and the smell that was wafting off of her made it pretty clear that alcohol was at least partially responsible for her bizarre behavior.

                _Not that he cared, but…_ “What the fuck’s eatin’ at you, huh, babes?”

                Lydia stilled her wrenching efforts and averted her gaze. “Look…it’s nothing! Why do you care? Just, please…” She shifted her hands, moving his with them, down between her thighs. Her black dress was rucked up high from her earlier struggles and she pressed their entwined fingers against the bare, dripping cleft between her legs. _So, so hot…_ Beetlejuice hissed.

“Feel how wet I am? Can’t you just….uhn….” Her eyes fluttered closed when he shoved her hand away to sink three of his fingers in to the knuckle, crooking them forward roughly. “Fuck! Yes, ah…,” she breathed, collapsing against him as he thrust his wrist rapidly.

“Nnnn-need more…,” she tore at the fastenings on his pants, pushing them out of the way to free his thickening organ. She stroked it harshly, tugging it by the root, making him curse. “Need _this_. NOW.”

                Beetlejuice laughed, pulling his soaked fingers out of her to lift her up and spin them so her back was supported against the bricks. Her legs wrapped around him instantly, and she tilted her hips up, muttering “ _yes, yes, yes_ ” while he positioned the blunt head of his cock at her throbbing entrance.

                She wanted hard so he gave it to her, slamming forward over and over again with brutal abandon. When she opened her mouth to let loose a ragged scream, Beetlejuice buried his fingers, still slick with her juices, past her lips as far as he was able, gagging her. Despite choking briefly, Lydia’s eyes shut blissfully as he continued pounding her into oblivion, thrusting the hand in her mouth in time with the movement of his hips.

                Beetlejuice lost himself in the sensation, letting his eyes close briefly as her tight little cunt twitched and squeezed around him. When he opened them again, tears were overflowing out of Lydia’s closed lids, streaking through the smudged eyeliner on her cheeks and pooling with the drool down her chin.

“Now what the fuck is _this_?!” He stilled his hips.

                Lydia’s eyes flew open and she shook her head as if to say “Nothing!” He removed his hand from her mouth, staring at her with unconcealed disgust. “Uh-uh. Not into it. Forget it.” He pulled out of her and let her fall to the ground on shaking legs.

                She flew at him, crying out hysterically, “No, no, please! It’s nothing, I swear! I need your cock, please, _please…”_

                It was hard to resist a request like that, but he wasn’t down to get played over some human bullshit. Grabbing her wrist, he swung her to the left, where she crashed against a stack of wooden pallets. The sharp edges hit the back of her knees and she landed, seated, on top of them. She bit her lip, shoulders shaking and tears still flowing uninhibited.

                He pointed at her with one grime-encrusted finger, stroking his neglected organ with his free hand. “ _Cut that shit out!”_ Lydia’s swollen eyes tracked the movement and she shivered with want, despite the tears.

“You want this?” His hand worked slowly, root to tip, thumb dragging over the head on every upstroke. Lydia nodded, hiccupping. Beetlejuice grabbed her chin, bringing his face inches from hers. “Then stop it. Stop. Fucking. Crying!”

                When she couldn’t immediately comply, he yanked the hand from her chin and brought it back sharply against her cheek. The impact rocked her, sending her almost toppling to the side, but when she raised her face to him again, the tears had stopped. Her eyes were still tear-bright, though, and burning with malice and desire. The imprint of his hand stood out stark and blood red on her wan cheek. She breathed heavily through her nostrils. Beetlejuice’s lips curled from his teeth in a sneer.

“Did…you just…” Lydia breathed.

“Yeah, I did. And I’ll do it again if you don’t knock that bullshit off. So, whaddya say?” He pulled his arm back, readying another swing. “Want another?”

                Lydia screeched inhumanly, moving to deal him the same, but he caught her arm and twisted it behind her back. He allowed himself to enjoy the heated struggle briefly before spinning her around, bending her over across the pallets. In seconds he was buried to the hilt again in her wet heat and her scream was one of desperate need and brutal violation. In other words, music to his ears. He resisted moving, though. Instead, he just held himself steady, feeling her hips wriggle and her cunt twitch as her body fought to decide what it wanted.

“You’re a fucking asshole!” Lydia’s scream was ragged, but she pushed back against him all the same, demanding more. Beetlejuice cackled, pulling out and then back in again, once, harshly.

“Asshole, sure, but the ‘fucking’ part is entirely up to you, babes. You done being a weepy, little bitch? Or do I have to turn you around and fuck your throat and leave you a dirty, crying mess? What’s it gonna be?”

                Burying his fingers in her hair, he twisted her head to the side, the angle sharp and unpleasant. Her eyes were dry, still, her teeth pulled back in a grimace. He waited.

“I’m….done.” She finally whispered, shuddering in defeat.

“Ohhh, _good._ Because as much as I enjoy that sweet little mouth of yours, you really got me in the mood for something a bit _more._ ” He rotated his hips, burying himself even deeper. Lydia moaned.

                Freeing the fingers twined in her hair, he slid his hand down across her back and then lower, squeezing and massaging one firm, round ass cheek. He slipped his thumb down the cleft, pressing it against the tight, puckered entrance below. Lydia tightened and then relaxed against the intrusion, sighing breathlessly as he circled it.

“There’s a good girl, huh?” Beetlejuice laughed in the back of his throat, hacking and gathering up a glob of spit to smear around the tight orifice. Sliding his cock out of the slick heat of her cunt, he positioned himself to push past the tight ring of muscle of above. Her moan was long and ragged as he sunk in, her fingernails scratching at the unfinished wood beneath her as he buried himself as far as he was able, hissing in pleasure as he did so.

“Deserve a little something special for my efforts, don’t I? Ahh, yessss….” He slid out and then back in again, once, making her shriek. Bending his neck low, he spit again, slicking himself even further before proceeding, setting a rapid pace.

                Lydia turned her head forward again, covering her mouth to mask the noises she couldn’t control as Beetlejuice let go, relentlessly fucking her ass.

“Uh-uh,” Beetlejuice grunted, pulling one of her hands away from her face. “I want to hear _alllll_ of that.” He guided her hand to the rounded flesh of her bottom, getting her to spread herself even further as she shrieked and moaned encouragements. His hips worked, hard and brutal, the sensation different from the sort of pain she’d been craving, but just as sweet. Letting her feel him stretch her there for a few moments, he then used his hand to once again fill her where she was most hungry for him, adding fingers until he was buried nearly to the wrist. Lydia’s cries were hoarse now, her inner muscles clenching violently as she shook and came around his hand and cock. One final thrust had him spilling himself deep inside of her, her cunt locking his hand in a vice grip as he groaned, long and low, with his own completion.

                She was boneless and weak when he finally removed his softening organ, trailing a thick deluge of fluid to mix with her own, still seeping sluggishly down her thighs. He flexed his fingers once more, for fun, inside of her before sliding them out, causing her to twitch and gasp. He snorted a laugh, cleaning himself off with one edge of her dress as she shuddered and evened out her breathing.

“Get what you called me here for?” He inquired, one eyebrow cocked, as he righted his disheveled clothing and tucked himself away inside his striped pants.

                Lydia responded with a muted noise of assent, still face-down in the position he left her.

Beetlejuice clucked his tongue, “Not good enough.” Gripping her by the back of the neck, he dragged her up again, spinning her around to face him. She screamed weakly in opposition to this harsh treatment, and Beetlejuice pressed close, tilting his head to search her face. “Answer me right this time. Did you get what you wanted?”

“Yes,” was Lydia’s low reply.

“Goooood,” he breathed, smiling unpleasantly. “Doesn’t Beej always give you what you want?”

“Y-yes.”

“And what is it that you want when you call me up here, huh? Come on now, don’t act all coy. Make that pretty mouth tell me all the ugly things you love me to do to you.”

Lydia’s breathing sped up and she licked her lips before answering, “I call you here because…because I want you to fuck me, hard and dirty a-and…”

“And you can’t get that from no breather, can ya?” Beetlejuice finished for her. His voice low and gravelly, eyes burning fiercely into hers, he continued, “Does anyone else make you cum as hard or as long? Give it to ya juuuuust the way you want it? Keep you up at night thinking about it? Shit, I bet right now you’re ready again, aren’t ya? Fucked raw and sore, but I bet you’re aching for round two. Tell me: Does _anyone_ else make you feel like that?”

Lydia only stared at him, drunk and, he was right, _aching_ from his words alone. When she didn’t respond, he shook her, calling her back to the present. She swallowed, making her voice strong as she answered, “No.”

He threw his head back laughing, “I thought so. Now say it, say: ‘BJ, no one can give it to me like you can.’ Don’t be embarrassed, I need to hear it.”

Color tinting her cheeks pink, she complied, “No one gives it to me like you can.” As she spoke she pressed herself against him again, sliding her palms over his chest.

                Beetlejuice grinned, seemingly pleased by her admittance, but then he shoved her harshly to the side, sending her sprawling to the filthy ground. “Now I want you to remember that shit the next time you even _think_ about calling me to be some sort of distraction for your human drama. I ain’t going to let myself be used like that, get it? When you call me here it’s because you want what _no one_ else can give to ya. Me, right?” When she didn’t answer, he raised his voice, shouting down at her. “ _Do you understand?”_

“Yes, yes! I’m sorry!” Lydia cried out again, near tears but struggling to hide it.

“Hmph. Good. Now send me back. I’m sick of lookin’ at ya.” He stood, arms crossed and ready for the calling of his name that would send him back to the afterlife.

Lydia whispered it three times, too shamed to look at him before he winked out of this realm. And then she was left, just as he said she would be; a dirty, crying mess.

 

* * *

 

 

“So you say you want a deathbed scene, the knowledge that comes

                          before knowledge,

                                                     and you want it dirty.

                       And no one can ever figure out what you want,

                                                                                                   and you won’t tell them,

and you realize the one person in the world who loves you

                                                                    isn’t the one you thought it would be,

                and you don’t trust him to love you in a way

                                                                                                                you would enjoy.

                                                                And the boy who loves you the wrong way is filthy.

And the boy who loves you the wrong way keeps weakening.

                    You thought if you handed over your body

                                                                                    he’d do something interesting.”

-Richard Siken, _Crush_ , “A Primer for the Small Weird Loves”, p.24, v.6

 


End file.
